The Fangs of The Frostbacks
by burnchocolateforfree
Summary: Briana is an Avvar mage. During her peregrination, she unknowningly stumbled on the Conclave explosion and walked out of the Fade. Now they plastered "Herald" to her name, with the faith of some and the scorn of a certain ex-Templar... Or at least so he thought. Slightly AU, slow burn romance, future theories on lyrium and its dangers on both templars and mages. M rating soon
1. Prologue

Hi, I've been out of the games for a while and I'm not a native speaker, so please excuse any mistakes! Enjoy

* * *

"'Tis not too late, lass."

Briana let go of the hem of her leather rucksack and looked up at the door, where stood her backlit father. She could not read his expression in the dark; not that it mattered anyway. She'd already decided, and it was not her father's place to stop her.

"I certainly won't stay, father. I refuse to be humiliated like this! Paidin can kiss my arse any day. He thinks he's tough shit just cause he's the thane's son, and now the shaman wants to choose _him?_ I'm better off looking for a decent husband in another tribe, one which prizes my gift better."

"Briana O Darragh. If you so decide. Let me meet my grandchildren, should you bear me. Korth guide your feet, and let us meet again."

He retreated, and Briana could hear the door shut, the snow creaking behind his father's weight, then the soft thud of rackets. She covered herself in her fur lined armour, carefully overlapping layer over layer. She tucked the last bundles of herbs in her sack, picked up her staff and opened the door. She was pleased to see that the snow stopped falling overnight, and that the moons shone alongside the sun. The Lady of the Skies was blessing her with winds of spring, even if that would be an overstatement any time of the year in the Frostbacks. She sat right outside her hut, sliding her rackets on. A long day of walking awaited her, one that wasted much of her nighttime thoughts preparing, by analysing paths and possible obstacles. The Fangs forgave no mistakes; in fact, not even the strongest in her tribe went alone down the white slopes that protected Darragh Hold. These men, however, never possessed the gift of magic.

Her tribe was a secluded one; even more so than the other Avvars. Usually, only one or two children per generation bore the gift; and Briana, being a woman, was just taught to control it, never with the intention of letting her become the tribe's shaman. She heard stories of the Circles of Magi, prisons where mages were locked under the so called mercy of the Chantry and the pretences of a false religion, and the thought made her shudder; such a waste just showed how weak-willed the plainsmen were.

She kept on thinking about it while she went uphill then downward, following the hillside buried in fresh snow. She occasionally stopped to build a fire and eat, but she could not settle for long, or else her feet and hands started feeling numb. When the redness of the sun became evident, she stopped and hid in one of the numerous caves that were scattered along the slopes. They thought they were Korth's dimples, a benevolent smile to protect them from the fury of the sky. She traced protective glyphs near the entrance, killed the insects that infested it and went to sleep, conscious that the first day would have been the easiest.

On the fifth day, she reached Haven. She knew it to be a Fereldan settlement, but the dragon that flew over the area until a few years before kept away all Avvars. She looked down to the village, still two or three miles away; the Chantry was standing clear, and she could also spot houses and red tents. Squinting hard, she could also see a black mass, too blurred to define. Could have been tilled soil, or a lake. As she got closer, she worringly understood: that blur was a mass of people. The village couldn't hold more than a hundred souls; what were all those people even doing there? She backed away from the crag, slowly, when something hit the nape of her neck, and she fell to the ground with a thud.

* * *

When she woke up, she was in a dungeon. Stone walls and a sharp chill told her she was underground; but she could not discern more in the dimly lit room. She chose to rest again, but was woken by screams.

"Help me!"

She jumped out of bed, hastily, then eavesdropped. She could hear no one, except the woman screaming.

"Keep the sacrifice still."

This voice gave her the chills. It seemed barely human. But as she heard those ominous words, she knew she had to do something. She opened the door, then ran through an empty corridor. Corpses of guards were lying around in pools of blood. Korth, what had she got into? She then reached a tall door, and felt foul magic, so malicious she shuddered. She thrust open the door.

"What's happening here?!"

Then, green light, and a black curtain.

* * *

The feeling of dejà-vu was really something. Her eyelids hazily parted, only to reveal a second, cold cell. No windows this time either. Was it really always like this in the plains? As she tried to stand up, she noticed the heavy handcuffs locked to her wrists. Another dejà-vu: the green, flickering light. For a moment, she thought her eyes had been wounded by the light. Then, she realized it came from her left palm. Her first reaction was to try and shake it off, and she felt scared when it won't leave its place. Then, she brought it closer and examined it. It was definitely magic: she felt the Veil pull and twist, small fractures immediately healed then ripped open again. She had never seen anything like it; but the Fade was very familiar to her, and she spent much time there with the spirit that taught her magic. When she tried to recall how she ended up there she hit her nose against nothingness, like an artificial wall was keeping her from her memories. If that had been the work of magic or something else, though, she couldn't say.

The door opened with clinks of metal, and two women came through. She crouched, keeping her heavy handcuffs up near her bosom.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now", one of them hissed. She wore strange, eye-shaped symbols all over her armour.

"The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead", she added, a strain in her voice. "Except for you."

 _The Conclave? So they had some kind of reunion here._ Briana kept silent.

"Explain this", the woman growled, violently tugging at her hand. Her companion stepped from the shadows, stopping her. She had strange, red hair. A bad omen in the Darragh clan. _Maybe that's why she's wearing a hood._ Then, like a puzzle piece, something moved in her memories.

"I remember running. _Things_ were chasing me, and then... A woman? She reached out to me, but then..." blackness hit her inward eye again. She sighed, frustrated.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the Rift".


	2. Chapter 1 - To Adjust

Briana kept going back to that image, irremediably burned in her eyes. The Rift, a humongous tear in the Veil, ready to spit out demons and forcing even good spirits to be corrupted. Even though she was now under a solid roof, much more so than the one she was raised under, she felt the rustling of that form so indefinite creeping, tickling her skin, such that she couldn't even sleep right. Everytime she was just about to fall deep into sleep, a shudder woke her up. It made her so angry. She was still recovering from the ordeal of trying to seal the tear... Was it even possible to hurt the Lady of the Skies with an explosion, no matter how large? That had serious consequences. _Maybe not being a shaman now would be more of a blessing than an humiliation. I don't want to see what that idiot Paidin will do now._ She chuckled at the image of a panic-stricken boy desperately trying to cling to all his useless ego.

She was so tired she didn't even notice the servant come inside her room. An elf? She had only seen a few in all her life, and always members of the Dalish. Korth, were they skinny. Furthermore, she almost fainted and squealed. _She looks like an hamster..._ Briana got up, dressed herself and went towards the Chantry. She sighed, remembering her vow to help their cause. She was kind of forced to agree, but she ultimately acknowledged the need to intervene, more so because of her mark. It also stopped hurting. An ounce of joy in a sea of troubles.

She opened the door to the War Council. There, a male, rabid cleric was shouting violently.

"Have you gone _mad?!_ Chain him! I want him prepared to travel to the capital for trial!"

"Disregard that", Cassandra calmly replied. "And leave us." That was a tone that admitted no talking back. She surely was a fierce woman. Briana would have liked her, had she not imprisoned her. A giggle marked her lips. The cleric still had the nerve to make threats! Almost admirable. He kept nagging until Cassandra shoved a heavy tome on the table, claiming it to be a writ of the Divine, the head of the Andrastian Chantry. So, they had these kinds of connections! No wonder there were so many people in this remote place.

"As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach, find those responsible, and restore order. _With_ or _without_ your consent."

 _Inquisition?_ _A grand name for a group of lost souls._

 _"_ We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support." Leliana chimed in.

"But we have no choice. We must act now. With you at our side." Cassandra looked at her with fire in her eyes. Briana chuckled.

"When I woke up, I certainly didn't expect this outcome... Fine, let us do this. I don't want to have that tear above my head a second longer than necessary."

Cassandra shook hands with her, a resolute aura, and nodded.

* * *

Cassandra and Leliana were indeed a terrific duo. A week later, the Inquisition heraldry fluttered in the wind and decorated the whole village; the first platoons boasted Inquisition armours and uniforms. An impressive show of organization skills rose where once stood but a semi forgotten settlement. Briana had learned that the two of them were the closest subordinates to the late Divine. After the announcement of the Inquisition, two more figures entered in what could now be called a war council: Ser Cullen, a imposing man who clearly had something to " _hide"... Hahaha... That fur really doesn't suit him. I get that he wants the immediate respect of his men, but he looks like a blasted peacock. Hm, I shouldn't talk bad about him, I've never even talked to the man_ _..._ and Lady Josephine, a walking chandelier shrouded in more gold than Briana ever saw in her whole 22 years of living. But once the pang from her clothes subsided, the woman under it was of an even more impressive kind: she had the method, patience and subtlety to subdue an army. Briana didn't think there could have been someone even scarier than Cassandra or Leliana, but damn, that was truly a matter of debate. She was very pleased to see the all-woman team they made; she felt empowered. Under the Avvars, girls were regularly abducted by enemy clansmen and could hope for little more: she felt now safe from that dreaded future, one of the reasons she left her the Darraghs.

There was another mage among her companions: an elf, Solas. To her horror and surprise, he possessed no hair apart from his brows. She couldn't even feel any masculinity from him: he looked like he was of another gender altogether, even though she wasn't sure this wasn't characteristic of his race. As a polar opposite stood the hairy dwarf, Varric: Briana already loved his wit and his outgoing, positive outlook. Her clan had several dealings with Orzammar, and she missed having the tiny but burly and tenacious men around.

All in all, she was adapting nicely to life in the Inquisition. The only thing that ticked her off was the moniker of "Herald of Andraste" the populace attached on her. They thought that she had been sent by their Maker to save the world, and Korth only knows her Avvar origins helped them consolidate the idea. Nobody cared that for Avvars, Andraste was little more than a fugitive, and Maferath a foolish leader. She tried to speak of the Lady of the Skies to the remaining clerics, but was dismissed with little care.

She heard a knock on her door.

"Herald? Are you there?"

She got up and opened the door. There stood Ser Cullen.

"I am. Good morning"

"Good morning, Herald. I came to inform you that we received valuable information, and that we will discuss them in the war room in an hour's time."

"You can call me Briana, you know." she giggled. He had a scar on his upper lip that she hadn't noticed, that twisted his mouth when he talked. He looked a bit vain. _I know of men who are harder on the eyes, though._

"Excuse me? This is protocol, I can't call you by your first name so easily. Nevertheless, I have to admit my ignorance regarding your culture. Do you have surnames?"

Briana blinked. Only plainsmen could be this straightlaced.

"We have two, actually. A matronimic and the clan name. I am Briana Ar Siobhan O Darragh. Now, I doubt you will want to spend two minutes everytime you refer to me", she chuckled.

"Then Herald will have to do", he answered rigidly. Then, he paused for a moment. "You're surely thinking of why a normal messenger couldn't have been sufficient to report this. In truth, I... wanted to discuss something."

His voice was somewhat colder. Briana straightened her back involuntarily, reading herself to bad news. She was very tall for a woman, but Ser Cullen's eyes were still a few inches higher than hers. A soft colour, like his hair and skin. He looked like a smear on a painting palette.

"I take it you're a mage."

 _What is all this tension for?_ "Yes, I am."

"And you never trained in a Circle, I presume."

"Before you _presume_ , let it be known that it isn't a blasted crime to be a mage in my clan. It's a precious gift. And I was properly trained-"

"By another apostate?" He made a small step back. Briana didn't miss it, that and his hand leaning on the hilt of his sword. _What's his problem?!_

"No, by a spirit of Valor."

Cullen's eyes widened. "Is this common between your kind? How can we know - are there _abominations?"_

"Do I look like an abomination to you?" Her voice was very calm. If he had known her, he'd know it was the right time to spin on his heel and leave.

"I'll call Solas and Cassandra. We have to prove this before-"

"Are you bloody listening? If you don't want to trust me, it's your loss. I refuse to undergo any kind of invasive check to sate your paranoia!"

He stopped in a rigid freeze. "It's no paranoia, I'm afraid. Lives are at stake-"

"And here I thought I had saved your ungrateful asses, so much that you claim I was sent by Andraste... I see you're as quick in judgement as the changing weather on the mountain. First you disrespect me and my name, then you have the _nerve_ to accuse me after just a few words of conversation. I refuse to tolerate such rudeness. Please go."

He was disoriented, and it showed in his behaviour. After a few moments of indecisiveness, he went for the door. Then, he turned his head. "I have no choice but inform the others of this". He gently closed the door.


	3. Chapter 2 - Haven

"I really can't come to terms with that. How _dare_ he-"

"Relax, Snowflake, I don't want any dead people on my conscience" Varric laughed. "Besides, you still gotta get to know Curly better. Y'know how those templars function. I've met golems that were more flexible than the lot of them."

Briana took a moment to register that information. "A templar?"

"You didn't know? And a darn good one at that. He was in Kirkwall like me when Blondie... When all the chaos happened."

"Kirkwall? Isn't that on the other side of the sea?"

"Babe, you're in for a long story."

* * *

"That was intense. So, that's where his fear of mages comes from," Briana commented, sighing. Although he had been way too unreasonable, the thing sounded like a downright mess.

"Now you know why I hate red lyrium. About Curly: I'm afraid that doesn't just cut it. Also, I suspect there to be more, but he just wouldn't tell me. What a ploughing pity, just imagine how many copies I could sell! 'The Woes of the Commander', a sexy sneak peek in the daily life of a man of steel. I just hope it won't end up like my other romances. Seems like they're just not the genre for me. Anyways, sounds like a good plan for after we get back from the Hinterlands", he winked.

She grumbled. She wasn't exactly anxious to leave, even if that would enable her to prove her worth and visit an unknown land. She never ventured beyond Lake Calenhad, after all. There, she had to confer with yet another cleric, Mother Giselle, who at least seemed to have a more favourable opinion of her. It was basic strategy to "infiltrate" enemy ranks; so she resigned to yet more sermons about faith in the Maker in order to gain the precious information she could hold. History taught her that plainsmen didn't really appreciate diversity, in religion or in powers, judging by their towers of mages, so she could as well stop expecting any mindfulness about her gods.

"Anyway, give the poor sod a second chance. He's nice alright"

"I will have to. I want to know more about the templars' powers. There is no way I can pick a side without knowing at least a bit about both, and after all you've told me, I feel like the mages in the plains aren't the most orderly lot. You know, I think the way you're teaching them magic is really wrong. What could they even pick up without a spirit's aid? Keeping them out of the Fade just exaggerates their fears, and their ignorance about how the demons behave could have them possessed even more easily. Who the hell devised such a method? This looks like a poor excuse to keep them locked physically and spiritually..."

Varric gave a bitter smile. "Wait till you hear of Tranquils..."

She wanted to ask for more, but the reverberating sound of the horn interrupted her.

"That's the end of the morning training. Damn, did I really blabber on so much? Anyway, if you're still keen on talking to our Commander, you'd best go now. Maker knows when he'll get his next break. I swear, if he dies, his ghost will keep on grinding those scrolls like nothing happened. "

"A _haunting_ image", grinned Briana. Varric massaged his temples.

"You know, Snowflake, you should really cut on these kinda jokes..."

* * *

She enjoyed her small walk through the village, then out of the walls. She always took the time to soak in the scenery at Haven. The lake was circled with snowy slopes like a silver mirror in an intricate, shiny frame, enriched by the wildwood bustling with game. Everywhere on sight, the Frostbacks, protectively encircling the settlement.

She lowered her gaze to the small plain where the soldiers were recovering from their sparring session. She wondered why she still heard the imperious voice of the Commander.

"You there! There's a shield in your hand, block with it! If this man were your enemy, you'd be dead!"

 _As it turns out, he really loves to overwork._ Two sweating soldiers kept at it, under the close scrutiny of Ser Cullen. She couldn't deny his dedication, but those poor lads really needed a break, the sweat visibly dripping from their brows. She enjoyed thinking about what a hero she must have looked in their eyes while she approached the grumpy Commander.

"I was hoping you'd put your work on hold for a little while after training, Ser Cullen."

He turned around, surprised, and squinted when she saw her.

"Soldiers! Lower your swords. You're dismissed." They sighed of relief under their headpieces, one of them coughing right after that, maybe to conceal what he had just exhaled. Luckily for him, Cullen was paying no heed to him. "Care to join me for lunch, Herald? I'm afraid that's all the time I have to spare."

She nodded and followed him. They reached the tent of the Commander, and two guards outside the entrance saluted. Cullen parted the curtains and invited her in with what she figured was a polite gesture. Inside, several shelves accomodated piles of books and parchments. Candle stubs were lined on his desk and confusely left on just about all pieces of furniture. The dwarf wasn't kidding about his work hours. When an elven servant brought in a tray, he nodded and asked for one more bowl of soup. He gently moved the books laid on one edge of the wooden table, then signaled to Briana she could sit there. When she made herself comfortable, he handed her the tray.

* * *

Cullen had thought several times about the Herald. He told himself that getting on her good side wasn't really necessary: he was just an advisor. It was his knowledge and tactical reasoning that was required of him, and little else. Surely they had enough comic relief in the group already. He had held nothing personal against her, that is, before she showed him to the door with such unreasonableness. _Why wouldn't_ _she just... understand!_ He felt like a fool shouting at mills. He'd already made her out: the umpteenth apostate who considered themselves the special exception to the harshest rule of magic. Hell, he thought Circles were supposed to be the only safe place, and look where that got him. He still had to sleep a whole night since the incident - so, in years, and the heavy bags under his eyes stood witness. He often wondered whether they'd ever go away, then scolded himself for his useless vanity. He also had the habit of caressing his scar with his thumb when he was deep in thought; the thicker skin was pleasing to the touch. He sometimes regretted not having had healed it with magic, but when he thought about the kind of dismal scorn he felt toward mages at the time, he was little surprised. Now, he felt a changed man, no longer blind to the struggle of mages, even if he still believed strict control and discipline to be of the utmost importance. Just one abomination could raze a village to the ground, after all, and who better than him could bear witness to that.

He was surprised when the Herald approached him after training. He thought she would fervently avoid him after their... disagreement. He realized that was the first time he looked at her properly, in the sunlight. Her complexion was pallid, her eyes a green so pale they looked watery. Long auburn hair was tied in a simple braid. He'd rather die than admit to himself she was pretty - even though she must have been some ten years younger than him, she had something in her gaze that made her look fiercer than her years could let.

He was embarassed by the state his tent was in, he realized when it was far too late. He rubbed the back of his neck, brought his armchair next to the Herald, and sat with a sigh. He then noticed something.

"Won't you eat?" He asked her.

Briana stood still. "When I come from, it is rude to start eating before the host."

"Please, Herald, we can put these formalities past us. Eat before it gets too cold."

"I will, Commander, when _you_ will."

The servant handed him out his bowl and rescued him from their standstill. He ate a few spoonfuls, then placed it on the table. His stomachache was getting worse, along with his whole hurting body. He forced another bite. When he gulped it down, he met Briana's eyes. _In the dark, her eyes are grey._

"I was hoping to hear you talk more about your templar training."

He choked on his food. "I didn't know you were so interested in my past."

Briana squinted. "I don't want any personal details. I need to know what kind of advantage it would bring us to recruit the templars, rather than your rebel mages."

He relaxed, feeling - much to his displeasure - a prick in his chest. For a moment, he had fancied thinking she might be curious about him. To what avail, he had no idea, all he knew was that all this mental rambling was entirely unnecessary.

"Templars are the military branch of the Chantry. They excel in suppressing magic, and their duty is to defend people against the dangers of said practice. The Order was founded in..."


	4. Chapter 3 - Bloody Red

"I didn't even think all this could be possible. Isn't what you're using... Magic?"

"I'm no scholar, so I'm largely unsure, but Templar and Seeker powers are more like a _negation_ of magic. Templars still need lyrium to perform them; Seekers are even more distant, since they don't require it and have a certain control over lyrium itself."

Briana was amazed. "What is the process in becoming a Seeker?"

Ser Cullen furred his brows. "I fear it is not a path a mage could follow. Anyway, any question is better posed to Cassandra."

"You said that templar attacks do not have consequences in the long period. Could you... try and silence my magic?"

He looked aghast. "No, and don't _dare_ ask anybody else." He stood up and looked down upon her. His hands were faintly trembling, Briana stared at them instead of looking him in the eye.

"I'm not doing those things anymore. I'm not a Templar, nor will I ever be again. I hope you've found this meeting instructive-"

"Does it hurt?"

"What?"

"Taking lyrium. One of our clan... died just by touching a vein. There was one near our hold..."

Ser Cullen gulped visibly.

"Templars are hardened against it, and we don't consume it raw anyway. Our philters are carefully brewed..." his trembling got worse, Briana noticed. She thought it had been her brazen request that had caused them, but now she wasn't so sure.

"I'm afraid I have work to attend to. I'll see you when you get back from the Hinterlands." he said dryly.

"Have a good afternoon, Commander."

"I'll see you around."

* * *

They had reached their camp in the Hinterlands three evenings after their departure. Their small caravan was led by Cassandra, Solas, Varric and her. A dwarf, Scout Harding, had already scanned the area and briefed them on their duties, signaling important standpoints on a map that Briana was allowed to take along with her. A thick journal contained a list of tasks and several white pages left for reports and comments. She volunteered to write them, but Cassandra wouldn't hear it. Briana was confident in her own handwriting: a mage couldn't afford mistakes when drawing a glyph or an incantation, but when she saw the way the Seeker actually wrote, she conceded.

"Calligraphy is a fundamental part of education in my family", Cassandra smugly noted. _Sheesh._

The following morning, they stepped outside camp and started their quest. Briana was shocked by the situation the refugees were in, and even more so by the foolishness of her fellow mages. Was that really the way to fight for freedom? By killing random innocents who just happened to live there? That was preposterous. The templars had little more care, though, and had somewhat of an advantage, probably fruit of their intensive military training. To reach Redcliffe they had to cut through both, and that gave them the occasion to probe their respective skills. Solas had had plenty of questions about Avvar magic training, and the others were impressed at her combat skills. What were the chances that a mountain wanderer actually _had_ what it took to be the "Herald"? Cassandra had monitored her for the first few days, but seemed now confident in her.

Despite their long and perilous travel to reach her, Giselle had nothing more than glorified speeches and words of hope. She agreed to go back to Haven with them to work with Leliana, and Briana hoped that she would be able to squeeze something of practical value from the cleric. Nonetheless, speaking with her had a positive consequence: Cassandra was even more fired up, and the Inquisition was able to set camp in the Crossroads and help refugees. Briana held that matter to heart, and looked for provisions and blankets to give them some relief. They were lucky climate in the plains wasn't as harsh as in the Frostbacks, or they'd already be dead.

During their explorations, they had an encounter that struck a chord within her. It was lyrium - on the surface! - of a hue of red so deep and... _bloody pulsating hear it thump blink don't blink blood hear it thumping with want don't blink_

Just remembering set her aflame. She had been nearly drawn in by its song, when Varric shot it with a bolt. It crashed, _injured,_ in pieces, and she regained her composure. Briana had seen blue lyrium and heard its song, a song that tasted like life and earth. The song she heard in the Hinterlands, though... Her ears were still ringing with tinnitus. She shook her head. Solas had heard it too, a glance had been sufficient to know.

That night, after dinner, she sat close to Varric. The dwarf was still on edge after what they had seen.

"Bartrand's idol... didn't sing like that. Maybe the size also plays a role..."

They stayed silent for a while.

"Varric, promise me. Next time we see something like that, you shot it right away."

"Are you all right, Snowflake?"

Briana lowered her gaze.

"Just do this for me."

Cassandra was looking right at her. "Herald, we have to know if this lyrium has any ill effect on mages..."

Her gaze was clear and understanding. Briana breathed in and told them of the Song, the redness, the malice.

* * *

Three weeks later, they were back in Haven. Things had progressed smoothly in their absence, and Briana knew, although reluctantly, that that had mostly been the Commander's doing.

She opened the door to the war room. Cassandra had already briefed the advisors on their encounters in the Hinterlands. Only Leliana was still in the room, moving shiny metal markers across the map.

"Herald, we heard of the red lyrium. You'd like to know that I already contacted some old friends to see what they can do," Leliana smiled. Briana got red on the ears at her sweet voice. "If you have further questions, please visit me in my tent. Also," she paused, a maliciously suggestive smile cracking her lips, "the Commander wishes to see you. If I were you, I'd prepare for a sermon of no modest proportions. Cassandra might have spiced up her narrative a tad too much. Tact is not among her many virtues, sadly." Briana hoped she would not notice her cheeks going pale.

"Duty, duty duty! Thank you, Leliana. And please call me Briana" she cheerfully forced out of her lips, closing the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 4 - The Tent

**Hi! The author here. I will resume my college lessons today, so expect 1 or 2 updates a week from now on. Enjoy!**

* * *

To Cullen, those few weeks felt as long as years. He drowned his hurt in work, and thank the Maker that there was never an end to it. Everyone's favourite joke seemed to be about his stakhanovite attitude, and he actually managed to laugh it off everytime, but inside him he knew that without so many things to do the pain would be stronger, his obsession would overflow, he would be alone with his thoughts. There was plenty of time at night to be tormented with grief. Also, he felt good at his job. He knew nobody could ever replace him, better yet he needed to reassure himself of it. And he was so meticulous and analytical, always keeping the numbness of the fever at bay - he couldn't afford to lose focus, not ever. There was only a path he walked a few times a day - the Herald. He couldn't help it; a good portion of the letters and reports had come from the Hinterlands. Everytime, he checked for the list of the injured. He always scolded himself for it, then guiltily justified himself - _we need her._ _I can't afford to... We have no hope without her._

One time, his heart sank when he saw her name. The report only mentioned a minor injury, but his hand was already on the quill. He sighed when he completed the letter, tempted to crumple it and throw it away, then put it atop the pile of letters to send. _I need to know. What were the others doing? They're there to protect her._ Thinking about her pale skin darkened with bruises made him nauseous.

One day, among the dozens of letter, there was a note by Leliana.

 _Commander Cullen,_

 _The Herald has passed Lake Calenhad and is just a day away. Please prepare the documents meant for the returning party._

 _L._

He didn't know he was able to work even faster.

Then, two days later. He already knew about red lyrium veins surfacing: some were found near the Breach site. What he didn't expect was Cassandra picturing the Herald as a possessed puppet under its influence: only destroying the crystal freed her. The image upset him deeply, he couldn't concentrate on the rest of the report.

* * *

Briana inhaled and called out to him. "Commander Cullen? I heard you asked for me"

The curtain was pulled apart and he gestured for her to come in. _His dark circles have gotten worse._ For once, she was fresh from the bath she just took. She had braided her hair but they were still a bit wet and cold on the nape of her neck. She sat in the same chair of a month before.

"Getting comfortable, I see." The Commander didn't miss that. She just smiled.

"How are you? I've heard you were injured." For a moment, she didn't even remember that had happened.

"Ah, you mean this... Solas healed that." she pulled the collar of her tunic to show him a small scar on her shoulder. He jumped.

"What are you _doing?!"_ Briana looked at him, confused. "It's just my shoulder."

Ser Cullen stood still for a moment, then coughed. She giggled to herself. _His ears are red like a little virgin._

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Anyway," his gaze turned serious. "Cassandra told me about the lyrium."

 _Here it comes._ She straightened her back, ready for a tirade. Instead, his eyes softened.

"Are you all right?"

Briana certainly didn't expect this. "What did Cassandra tell you?" she asked, hesitant.

"She's afraid you could be corrupted. You gave her quite a scare," he chuckled. "But she didn't tell me nothing I didn't know myself."

He exhaled. "The song... I know its torture well enough. And that's why I'm not afraid, I'm worried. I had time, during this month, to read the many reports Cassandra sent me, and I can't doubt you anymore. You did well resisting the influence of the rifts. I know that that puts mages in front of... undesired encounters with demons." his face distorted. _To me, it looks like you're better off worrying about yourself first._

"Is there even anything I can say to reassure you?"

He gave her a sad smile. "No, there isn't." Briana felt a twinge in her chest. _So he_ can _smile. Too bad I've yet to see him even vaguely happy._

"I believe you had a misconception about my education. I'm quite used to demons, much more so than your circle mages, and thus adept at evading them. That ought not to worry you. I'm way better than a scholar who sees them for the first time. Looking at your mages, back at the Crossroads... They were desperate, more afraid of their comrades than of the templars."

Ser Cullen clenched his jaw. "Before Kirkwall, I worked in Ferelden. I was the one who had to... kill the mages, in case they became abominations." Briana let that flow past herself. It was necessary, no one expected mercy for an abomination. The Commander's eyes met hers, waiting for a scorn he didn't find. He cleared his throat.

"That was not what I wanted to talk about. What I wanted to say was... You don't have to feel _sinful_ when you think about the song. It's not anyone's fault." _He looks like he's saying that to himself. Maybe Templars..._

"I think I said enough. You can go now."

Briana stood up, purposefully squeezing her waist with her hands. She sank her fingers in her tunic until it hurt a little, as she always did when she was deep in thought. Ser Cullen looked away and squirmed on his armchair. _God this is so fun, he overreacts to anything._

"If I find out more about this lyrium, I'll be sure to let you know. Good afternoon, Commander."

"See you around, Herald."

* * *

In the days that followed, Briana found herself looking for him unconsciously. In the hall at lunchtime, she looked for his purple fur. In the training grounds, for the shine of his armour. Before entering the war room, she imagined him sitting in his chair, reading, and felt disappointed everytime he wasn't there. She knew why she did those things, and wasn't happy in the least with herself. There were many promising young men around that didn't carry all this burden and self-importance, and she wasn't about to add heartache to the long list of her problems. She was often seen suddenly knitting her brows, and that earned her some recurring jokes. Varric even threatened her to start calling her "Grumpy". She was unhappy, in fact, just until she saw him. She didn't talk often to him anyway outside of work; we can say almost never. To add to that, their frequent trips to Ferelden gave her no chance to cultivate anything, and she felt that was for the best. If anyone caught on about that, she'd never hear the end of it, and it would ruin what little good impression she made on him. She was relaxed, however, regarding women: although he earned the oogling of more than a few residents, almost none were bold enough to actually talk to him, and only received distant greetings. That put her mind at ease while she prepared for yet another trip in the Hinterlands.


	6. Chapter 5 - The Lord Seeker

This time, she had been gone for a whole month. She had decided to confront the Chantry in Val Royeaux and met with Lord Seeker Lucius, but the bargaining hadn't even started before the Herald's party had been shown to the door. Cullen knew that the Inquisition, being so young and groundless, needed more agents and influence to be negotiating with the Flaming Sword, but nonetheless expected something more, maybe thanks to their connections with the Seekers and the Order.

There was something he didn't expect, though: when she crossed the village gates, saluting the populace, there were four strangers close to her. One in particular was almost hovering over her, a bearded, gloomy but imposing man, casually whispering in her ear. Cullen turned on his heels and came down the stairs to greet the returning party. Leliana was already giggling with a mage who must had been Orlesian - _no one else would wear an hat like that-_ when everyone got interrupted by the sudden, loud singing of a company of what Cullen barely made out to be mercenaries, most probably all drunk. Leading the ear-piercing group, a _ginormous_ Qunari, with horns spanning at least a metre, now laughing throatily. "Come on, boss!" he roared, picking the Herald up and swinging her around. She looked like she was having a good time. Maybe he shouldn't disturb her and her new friends. The thought annoyed him, and he approached the Herald.

"If I may have a moment-"

"Commander!" she was flushed and red, probably from all the swinging. He was conforted to see her tired but in good spirits. "Bull, put me down!" The Qunari - it wasn't hard to associate him with the term "Bull" - laughed for an answer, turned her with her feet to the ground and gently let her jump to the ground. Cullen realized the expression he was wearing wasn't his most diplomatic one, judging by the look on the mercenaries' faces.

"Bull, this is our forces' Commander, Ser Cullen Rutherford. Commander, this is Iron Bull, he and his company agreed to help our cause. Ah, this is Blackwall, a Grey Warden, and over there are Vivienne, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, and Sera... Where's Sera?"

"Aye, who calling for me? Ouch, such a fancypants! Never anything good coming from those" the glib elf spouted, apparently popping out of nowhere just to give him a once over and wrinkle her nose at the sight of him. He felt a vein pulse on his forehead. The Herald noticed that and barely stifled a laugh, only making matters worse. "I'm not prone to being the subject of such... mocking behaviour. Herald, come to my tent once you're done with your trumpery".

"Wait, Cullen!" He irked at the sound of his name. She immediately paled. "I meant, Ser Cullen... Please, we didn't want to annoy you. We were just happy to be back."

Cullen fought to relax the muscles on his face, and more or less succedeed. "You're right, I apologize. My offer still stands - I can see clearly how you're not in the mood for paperwork right now anyway."

He walked away thinking of her slip, trying not to look mortified.

* * *

"Herald, you'll be pleased to know that we have gained the support of several Orlesian families and that they are ready to march to Therinfal Redoubt with us", smiled Josephine, making checks on a piece of parchment.

"Even the Lord Seeker would find it difficult to ignore so many nobles on his doorstep." Cassandra smirked.

"Yes. Especially when led by the Herald of Andraste." Leliana added forthrightly.

"The Lord Seeker barely knows I exist..." objected Briana. She wasn't quite so sure that putting her as the intermediary of such an essential deal would be beneficial, especially after Val Royeaux.

"Careful, Herald: we don't need the Lord Seeker, we need his templars. With our without his consent. And tales of your endeavour have grown large between their ranks: many believe you were truly sent by Andraste, and we... might have helped them see the truth." Leliana winked.

 _Oh, the irony._ "If I have a growing reputation, we might as well use it. I'll also take Blackwall and Cassandra with me. I won't be in danger with those two."

"I'll also appoint some troops to be your escort, it'll improve our standing to his eyes." Ser Cullen then switched his gaze to Josephine. "We march at your signal."

* * *

Getting into Therinfal Redoubt had been easy. She chose to respect the Lord Seeker's wishes in an attempt to diplomacy - something about flags and values, she was skeptical about the whole thing - and chose to raise the flag of the people, with cheerful remarks from Sera. She tried not to be distracted by Ser Barris, a most welcome sight: other than extremely handsome, he was also their best chance to convince the Lord Seeker, since he firmly believed in helping the Inquisition's cause. Monsieur Abernache, a chatty and uppity Orlesian noble, mentioned he was the son of a Bann. This surprised her, for Ser Barris didn't have Alamarri features: he had skin the colour of tilled soil, and lips so full... _I'm now fully convinced that templars are chosen because they're pretty._

She managed to cross the gates, only to be met with crazed templars, with red lyrium _growing_ from them. The sight terrorized her, and she frenzied to kill them. Crystals were pulsating from their bodies, even in death, giving her goosebumps. They finally reached The Lord Seeker's quarters, and there he was, on top of the stairs, his back turned towards them. Briana walked towards him. With a rush, he turned around, picked the collar of her robe, a smirk and flames in his eyes.

"At last!" he snarled, pulling her towards him, green light blinding her.

After a few moments of darkness, Briana found herself in a dimly lit hall, surrounded by burnt corpses and glowing embers. She didn't recognize the place, and treaded carefully; everytime she stepped on something, she felt dizzy with vertigo at the unexpected crunch of bones. Then, at the end of the room, emerging from the shadows, were Ser Cullen and Josephine. She immediately felt relief - she was not alone. But their gaze was... strange. Leliana also left a dark corner and drew near.

"Everything tells me about you." Her voice resonated with a strange echo. "So will this. Watch."

Briana jumped when she raised a knife against Ser Cullen's throat. His gaze was hollow, his limbs falling limp on his sides, giving no reaction to Leliana's threat. _This can't be. This voice... It's the work of a demon._ Briana somehow managed to calm down, but felt dizzy in the knees, the pit of her stomach churning.

"You don't fool me, demon. I can see your workings!"

 _Wrong answer. No, no no!_ Leliana slit Cullen's throat while Briana covered her mouth not to scream, watching in dismay as his body collapsed in a pool of blood. For a moment, she thought he looked... disappointed. She let him down. When she finally managed to look away, she saw Leliana smirking. "I see through you." Then Josephine approached, emotion retaking its place in her eyes. She was... amused. "Being you will be so much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker. Do you know what the Inquisition can become? You'll see." Briana jumped, hearing her breath behind her ear. "When I'm done, the Elder One will kill you and ascend. And I... will be _you."_

Then, her heart broke again. "I am not your toy! I'm Envy, and I will know you!" Cullen stood there, his throat still slit and thickened blood coagulating, slowly gliding over his armour. His gaze was filled with hatred. She desperately tried to erase that from her memory as soon as she saw that, but the more she tried to, the more she felt it engraved in her brain.

"Tell, me Herald, in your mind... Tell me what you think!" And then he plunged the knife in her belly. She felt the pain, acute and burning, but there was no injury. And then Cullen was bent over the war table, a scene she saw almost everyday. His voice was more and more spiteful. "Tell me what you feel!" The imaginary slit in her stomach churned uncomfortably, then at once opened, black blood coming out and dissolving into smoke.

"Tell me what you see." His velvety, sneering voice was now hurting her ears. _Come on come on come on. It's a demon. You just haven't met this kind before. How hard can beating him be? Cool your head. Come on._

As soon as she regained her footing, everyone disappeared, and she was again in the same hall. She started walking down the labyrinthic keep, barely looking at the catastrophic scenes unrolling in front of her eyes. The demon predicted a future of dictatorship under her name, laughter costantly in the background.

"Wait". This voice was new to her, but perhaps not _really..._ At least, it wasn't threatening.

"Envy wants to hurt you. Mirrors on mirrors on memories. A face it can feel but not fake. I want to help."

 _Is this... a spirit of compassion? "_ Who are you? I've seen you before, have I?"

"I've been watching. I'm Cole. We're inside you. Or... I am. You're always inside you. I'm here, hearing, helping. I hope."

"Then, help me out!" Briana pleaded. Korth knows she needed a friend here to flee from the demon. "How do I get out of here?"

"All of this is Envy: people, places, power. If you keep going, Envy stretches. It takes power to make more."

"So, the plan is to tire it out. Thanks, Cole, hope to see you again." She immediately started running, ignoring the shrieks of the demon, and ran from door to door in the dungeons, jumped over wooden wreckages, flew over stairs, over, and over, over the courtyard and the trees, up until the final flight of stairs, onto the large, wooden door...


	7. Chapter 6 - The Way Back

The true face of the Envy demon was terrifying, even more so than other demons. The way it bent, wound up on its spine, gave the chills to the whole group. Briana sent a prayer to at least ten gods when she saw the real sky over her head, but found herself busy soon enough: Envy had many arms, many hands, many _mouths_ that gnashed its teeth and growled and opened abysses where she feared she could lose herself again if she didn't focus enough. To no avail they readied their weapons, for the horrid creature strode away, its legs scurrying like Varterrals in Dalish tales.

After just a few moments Briana conceded herself to check if everything was where she left it, she began chasing the demon, and met in the Chantry hall with the remaining Templars. Ser Barris, valiantly leading his brethren, asked her to rescue some of the veterans still scattered around the redoubt fighting the red templars: since Envy demons were so rare, Templar knights in training weren't taught how to counter them. They also needed lyrium to break through the barrier that the powerful demon set to protect itself. Cassandra and Blackwall were eager to help, heroism plastered in their eyes. Briana sighed, conscious of the threat that had to be dealt with but not really in the mood to face the demon and its malice again, and braced herself to what would come next. While carrying out their duties, they also found several notes on red lyrium, the effects of different dosages and abstinence, that she picked up and decided to analyse when she got back in Haven.

The fight with the Envy demon had been gruelling. It seemed incapable of maintaining a fixed form, and spastically changed to several figures, giant soldiers, fiery beasts, other demons... All in vain. In the end, the Inquisition party prevailed, though not unscathed. Briana had gulped her last lyrium potion to heal a series of deep cuts carved in her hip, but with moderate success. The demon had clawed her waist and tossed her back, injuring not only her haunch but also her back during the rough fall. Cassandra had been considerably luckier, content with just having to order a new shield; Blackwall had been injured on his forearm and Sera had an ugly bruise below her right eye, but they were all in all in decent health. They all felt invigorated, though, just a few moments later, when Ser Barris and the surviving Templars pledged their loyalty to the Inquisition. Briana immediately asked them to raise their heads and offered an alliance to the Order: she didn't wish for the centenary organization to just vanish and be absorbed into the Inquisition. She thought that names held power, and this one especially retained a very dear place in the heart of the people of the plains. Rather than the erratic and rebel mages, a strict, military order founded - even if only in theory - on the values of mercy and protection of the weak was sure to bring respect and connections to an otherwise young and no-name band born of strays. _And among those, I am even more of a tramp. Yet here I am, making decisions and taking vows for people that don't follow my gods, don't share my beliefs, don't know a thing about my culture._ She chuckled. _One good thing about catastrophes is how it brings people together._

The thought didn't leave her alone until she caught sight of Haven. She didn't regret joining the Inquisition, nor she had alternative solutions for the problem that constantly hovered on her head. When Leliana and Josephine asked her what was she doing on the mountains the moment she got caught by the Conclave guards, she had had no qualms in telling them of her decision to leave the village and find her way elsewhere, and had accepted her fundamental role in the dark unfolding of events that seemed to follow her everywhere now. In its last ravings, the Envy demon had pleaded and begged an entity, the Elder One, for solace and salvation, and proclaimed his arrival upon them. What or who this Elder One was remained a mystery, but intuition screamed that a demon god was not something to just discard and forget, and that it might have some kind of correlation to the Breach. Best case scenario, the risk was that it could travel to Thedas through a rift. And if a single demon could slay villages, what destructive power could their leader unleash? She scrambled to find the travel journal in one of her horse's pouches and noted it down, after the elegant and orderly report Cassandra had drafted earlier that day.

The sun hadn't quite set yet but the sky was already a warm hue of orange when they finally reached Haven. She knew that duty imposed they saw the advisors first, but a name she temporarily refused to pronounce spoiled her already weak will to recount their adventures. To add to that, she stank enough to kill someone. She even had a flock of gnats hovering beside her and ruffling her hair, scampering on the grime clotted in the folds of her skin, between her joints, and Korth knows where else. A bath would also enable her to wash her wounds with more care and maybe attempt at healing them a second time. She had needed only mention that to Cassandra, and the Seeker almost shoved her to her cottage, ordering servants around for a tub, towels and hot water. When she went on to fetch Adan, Briana stopped her and reassured her that she was perfectly capable of healing herself, desperately needing to be left alone for a few hours. Camping with her companions was good and all, but her nature strictly demanded some alone time she hadn't had for weeks. Thus, she bolted her door, locked the shutters in front of her windows, lit her candles and sank into the tub with a sigh of relief.

She had lied to herself, believing that the hour and a half she took to scrub herself, massage her pained muscles and generally lay neck deep in the hot water was entirely necessary and that after that she would be ready and full of initiative, gladly attending to all her duties. Instead, when she finally decided to stand up and receive the wave of cold air that awaited her, she only wished she could stay locked in for another day. She lazily bandaged and dressed herself, the clothes passing over her arms and torso itching slightly against the goosebumps on her cold skin. She sat by the fire and brushed her hair, waiting for it to dry. When it stopped dripping, she braided it, crumbling some chamomile between the locks to make them smell a little better. She wasn't used to the soap in Haven, greasy from all that sheep fat. She had spent her whole life washing herself with soapwort, looking at the leaves floating on the water instead of those horrible clumps of _muck_. She exhaled and stood up, unlocking the door and squeezing her fur shawl while she fretted towards the Chantry.


	8. Chapter 7 - Tavern Song

"Their crimes put them at our mercy. Yet, the terms of this alliance do not benefit the Inquisition as they should." Leliana's voice was icy. Then she turned towards the still shivering guest. "You should have consulted us, Herald."

Well now, this was unexpected. "With all due respect," _why is it that sentences that start like this are never respectful?_ "I hardly had the time to send a raven or two, and to add to that, it was _your_ decision to send me as the delegate for negotiations. Now, if you think I'd just spouted the first nonsense that came out my mouth, well that's not it. I still think this was for the better. I agree that they need a new, maybe undeserved new beginning. And what would scream "force of good" more than letting them rebuild their order under our wing?" She realized she sounded like a know-it-all in front of people that did indeed know it all, inhumanely so. She remembered all the times this shortcoming of hers was pointed out by her father and the shaman, and blushed. "That's my two coppers, at least."

Josephine smiled. "An alliance with the Templars _was_ our desired outcome. Maybe we could discuss their imminent arrival instead?"

Leliana retained her expressionless face, but nodded. "A few veterans are coming ahead of the rest, to help seal the Breach."

"Ser Barris let me know. Maybe we should-" Briana was interrupted by something appearing on the war table. _Cole?_

The boy spoke. "They're almost here. Templars don't like to be late." He was holding an andrastian amulet, observing its metal shining under the lights.

Cassandra and Ser Cullen wasted not even a breath before drawing their swords. Briana felt her skin irk. "Wait!" she shouted. They stopped in their tracks, but didn't even spare a glance towards her.

Cole was placid. "I came with you to help. I would've told you before, but... you were busy..."

"Lower your swords, please. He means no harm" Briana pleaded. In fact, she was happy to see him again, even if she reminded her of memories still too vivid. The bath had not been enough to process them, or rather she'd put off dealing with them along with the rest of her duties.

"I would like to hear why he came", Leliana added to her claim.

"You help people. You make them safe when they die. I want to do that. I can help. The hole in the sky is too loud, it's polluting, pushing out pain. I want to _stop_ it".

Briana smiled. "Cole saved my life in Therinfal. I couldn't have defeated Envy, without him. I think he really is trying to help."

"I won't be in the way. Tiny, no trouble, no notice taken unless you want them to."

The Commander chimed in. "You're not _really_ suggesting we let him run around our camp- hold on now!" Cole was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did he go?!" Cassandra waved her sword warily, and Briana couldn't help but giggle. "It's a nice trick. You'll get used to it." She could literally hear the eyes rolling.

* * *

The evening after, Cullen was supervising a small unit of soldiers pitching new tents for the incoming Templars. She was happy to be in a warm stone cottage, but these tents were on a spur dominating the lake, and the location was so beautiful, she was almost envious. _Almost._ As usual, her eyes caught the glint of his armour right away, but her stomach squeezed when their eyes met, and he started walking in large strides towards her. She knew he always walked like this, but flattering herself that he had been eager to see her felt good, and she did little to stop her thoughts. When he got closer, though, she felt sick. Her hands unconsciously ran to her imaginary wound, feeling him stab her a second time. Her fresh, real wounds on her hip stung and throbbed, as if demanding she take better care of them. Another one of the things she should've done. Korth _,_ the list ran so long her insides winced everytime she thought about it.

Ser Cullen must have noticed something was wrong, judging by his disturbed expression.

"Briana! Maker, are you all right?" He squeezed her arm. Her eyes refocused and met his. _Took his damn time!_

"Why thank you, Cullen. Now that we're on a first name basis, we can finally go for a merry mead. I think I rather need one." He gasped when she pointed out his slip, but didn't correct himself.

"Give me just a minute." He walked briskly towards a soldier, a stern expression that made her giggle. A pat on his shoulders, a few more words, and there he was going back to her.

"Come on. Flissa is sure to welcome us." He followed her, observing her carefully. Briana felt embarassed to be watched, and pulled her heavy greatcoat tighter around herself. _Wrong._ She ground her teeth at the pang in her hips, and hastened her pace with little steps so as to ease the pain. It was only when they finally sat in a quiet corner of the tavern that he sensibly asked.

"Do your thighs hurt? Was it Therinfal?"

"Ah, no, it's not my thigh, it's actually here". Her hands moved to cover the right side of her belly. She didn't really understand why he blushed.

"I'm sorry, I heard you were injured and... I didn't think you had... Your _lady_ issues". Briana almost spat her drink back in her mug, but he continued, each word more awkward, his hand massaging the nape of his neck. "I mean- My sister, Mia, had just begun when I... Ah, nevermind. I didn't..."

"Cullen, please, calm down. I'm not referring to that." She stifled a giggle, then went serious. "The demon caught me with its claws and injured me. I shouldn't tell you this, but I made a poor job at healing it and it still hurts. It'll likely take some time, but I just need to chew on some elfroot to feel completely fine." His gaze was severe, so she continued, hoping to reassure him despite her fatigue, heaving down on her the more alcohol she drank. "Honestly, that isn't a problem in the least. I'm more worried about being able to sleep from now on. That was... frightening."

"I read the reports, but they mention little about the fight in itself. I've heard that Envy demons have a horrid appearance, though." he smiled, possibly trying to cheer her up.

"That would suffice to give me nightmares, I agree. But" she gulped down a large sip of ale and exhaled, "the terrible thing was having it inside my head, _learning about me_. You were there too. It... manipulated my memories and desires. I can't handle how easily it did that." She stopped, Cullen visibly upset.

"There's nothing I can say to ease your worries, I'm afraid. Sleep is the price you pay in exchange for survival." His voice was sweet, but allowed no questions. He stayed silent for a few seconds.

"On a lighter note, I'm glad I'm relevant enough to you to be demon material." he smirked, then paled. "In a good sense, I mean. I-"

Briana hoped he would not notice the tip of her ears getting hot. She should be better at these games by now, but he made her feel like a fourteen years old with her first crush all over again. _Not that it's a bad feeling, but it's time to graduate._ She grinned.

"There's room to improve." she hinted with her eyes, and he became suddenly very interested in the brindles of the wood plank of the table.

"It's cherry wood. Do you like it?" she cornered him. Two possible outcomes for this one: either he followed suit with the flirting, or he would take the chance to change topic.

* * *

 _It's the colour of her hair._ "I like it."

He looked at Briana. While she had been eager to lock eyes with him all dinner, now her pupils were void. He followed her hands, alarmed, looking at her standing up.

"I've drank enough. Thank you for your time, Commander." The change of tone was audible. She limped slightly, mindful of her right hip, while he sat there. When she swayed out of the tavern, he let out a loud sigh.

 _I ruin every single chance the Maker presents me. But I deserve it._ Maryden, the bard, was singing a sad melody, and he felt like it reverberated inside him.

He chatted for some time with Sera, and left when she suggested he made up to the Herald by offering her peaches, or something like that. He wasn't sure he had grasped what she really meant with all those fruit analogies.


	9. Chapter 8 - Sparring

Briana had been picking up pieces of herself and smashing herself up again, with a persistence that far outdid that of other hobbies of hers. When it came to love, she liked to bask in her victimizing and disillusioned feelings. She was now triumphantly certain: that hadn't been _true_ love, she just needed someone to play pretend with, and now that the charade had ended as it should've she could finally recognize its adolescent traits. But man, it _hurt._ It hurt her pride, it wrecked her little world of fantasy, it stung her insides with regret with agonising regularity. She had difficulties concentrating, and blamed it all on her stupidity, but couldn't just force herself to act like an adult and get over it, because pain was still better than that foggy indifference that came along with memories of the past. And in her warped thoughts as stabbing knives in her guts came the venom: _he wronged me, he's a callous prick, he led me on and caused this mess._ She knew perfectly well that it wasn't his fault in the slightest, still she needed to blame him. This way, it would take longer to forget him.

There were still two days for the main group of Templars to reach Haven. She had to steel herself in front of the chance she might not survive. Probably because of her pride, she found it easier to accept than Cullen's rejection. Her death might serve to save the world, she could ask for no more significant way to join the skies; rationally, that was fine, but she couldn't stop her body breaking in cold sweat and her stomach churning. That was an ordeal not meant for just anybody.

"Pardon me, but you look tired. If there's anything I can do, please ask." Ser Barris had come first, to ensure preparations progressed smoothly, and much to her surprise, he often hovered around her. He also tended to be a little touchy-feely - not that she minded, but she was still a little jumpy whenever that happened. _Like now, for instance._ She looked at his hand squeezing her arm, the color of Antivan cocoa, and smiled.

"Are things going as planned, Delrin?"

Barris smiled. "We'll still need a few days after my brothers's arrival for final preparations, but we're up to the task. Today, I think I will ask Ser Rylen to train with me. I had little opportuinities to bond with the templars who're already here."

 _I think I'll sit and watch._ "You'll find me at Harritt's if you need me." Delrin seemed happy.

She had been waiting for her new staff, a kickass mix of drakite and onix that stole her heart as soon as she'd seen the schematics. While she was testing it - the flaming tip was really bombastic! - her gaze was caught by that unmistakable fur loitering around the training grounds. Cullen was talking with Barris, wearing a deep scowl, the latter one clearly looking confused. Briana had her mouth hanging open while she looked at Cullen stripping off his armour, leaving only his shirt on, and picking up a wooden sword, immediately pointing it at Barris.

She had never seen him fighting one on one, and was amazed by his agility even after a long time spent drowned in paperwork. Delrin was a phenomenal warrior, carefully taking advantage of his weight and rapidity, his movements though very codified and rigid, clear sign of his novice training - he still relied on tested routines. Cullen was instead precise and alert, like a wary beast ready to pounce. He was also taller than him, which gave him the edge when outflanking his opponent's shield. _The shield!_ In Cullen's hands it was not merely a parrying tool; it became a powerful weapon used with creativity. After a first moment of agitation, Delrin cooled down, clearly enjoying and learning from the match. The Commander was not cutting him any slack - he was extremely aggressive and cunning, weirding Briana out. It looked a bit too intense for it to be a training spar. Other soldiers were slowly drawn in by the match, but instead of the excited cheering that animated the Chargers' sessions, no one violated the silence in bated breath. Briana found herself inconsciously getting closer, even sliding through the small crowd, inevitably lured by the low bang of wood over wood, the shing of the metal edges of the tower shields dragged across the ground. She was now close enough to notice the sweat shimmering and dripping, and Cullen dark, void eyes which scared her. She wanted them to stop, even though she knew that wooden swords could only cause bruises and nothing serious. Thankfully, a voice broke that oppressive atmosphere.

"Enough! What are you two doing?" Cassandra's harsh remark woke everyone from their daze. The crowd quickly dispersed, and the rivals threw their swords to the ground, panting and wiping the sweat from their brows. Cullen's eyes suddenly shot up to hers, a mortified expression countering Briana's, still disturbed. Delrin tossed his tunic on the wooden table near the training ground, his sweating torso flexing handsomely, and approached the two of them.

"That was quite a match. Commander, I hadn't realized your prowess. It's been... enlightning." He smiled amicably. "Briana, I'm more and more confident that we'll make it with no trouble. I'm happy he volunteered to spar with me instead of Ser Rylen", he added looking Cullen in the eye, while he shrugged. Briana would've wanted to gasp: _the never-resting Commander just casually abandoning his post?_

"I needed to let off some steam. I might become dull otherwise." he dryly smiled, his eyes elsewhere. "I shall leave. I assume you'll want chat some more, whereas I need to get back to work... Enjoy yourselves."

Briana never stopped looking at him while he turned away, picking up his clothing, directed to his tent; Delrin was smiling, insisting on being naked even in the icy climate of Haven. She handed him his shirt, comically taking in the contrast with her, wrapped in several layers of wool and fur.

"Tough man, that one. The Inquisition is safe in his hands."

Briana nodded. "I didn't think he would take you on so seriously."

"Is that meant to say that I was losing?" he winked. "From what I heard of him and read in reports, his life has been a long sequence of disasters. I've seen many senior Templars having issues with violence - never one so young, though. He barely looks ten year older than me."

Varric had forced her to read his "Tale of the Champion", so she knew what kind of ordeal he had gone through, and he also mentioned being kind of an executioner in Ferelden... Of course, that couldn't have been easy.

In the end, she laughed dryly. "Just try not to be skewered outside of actual battle."


	10. Chapter 9 - Closure and Opening

The Breach dominated their sights, spreading its greenish light on all people present. Briana stood at the forefront, behind her the battery of Templars standing at attention. She could not feel her legs and arms. She walked never knowing if one of her legs was going to give out. Solas, who mainly ignored her, was now at her side, his gaze fixed on the Breach even as she took her little, tentative steps and reached the center of the ruins. Magic was present in dismaying quantities, making her skin crawl and her heart beat dissonantly. The green light had enveloped her, twisting like torn spiderwebs.

"Templars!"

Someone was shouting directions, but Briana didn't look back. She was rooted there by stress and fatigue, and closed her eyes to clear her mind. _It's now or never. I want to go back. I want to go go back._ Then, a strange sensation of lightness hit her. The Templars were chanting, and she was suddenly able to move. Regaining her focus in one stroke, she threw her arm up decisively. A ray of green magic flowed from her mark, and she concentrated in order to keep it straight and strong towards the sky. The longer ten seconds in her life, and a boom resonated in her ears, hitting her with force and flinging her a few meters back. Sharp rocks grated against her injured hips, reopening the wound. _Just great._

 _Wait. I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm breathing._

Euphoria struck her, her limbs prickling with relief. Cassandra ran up to her and helped her up, barely able to stand. With an almost inaudible whisper, she said, "you did it", bur Briana didn't even process that. She was looking at the sky, dark with the last signs of dawn, while the Templars cheered and threw their swords in the air.

It was a long, triumphant ride after that. They reached Haven among the cries of the Conclave survivors and the many that came from the Hinterlands and the hillside below Haven, all of whom wanted to touch her. She slowly slid from her saddle to greet Leliana, Josephine and Cullen, who immediately rushed to circle her. She gasped and blushed when Cullen took her face in his hands then turned and tilted it, maybe looking for wounds, then felt a slight discharge when she tried to move them away. The mark on her hand was still hyperactive, but at least she got what she wanted: Cullen immediately jumped away warily.

Josephine's face was understanding. "Solas, please, have a look at her wounds and her mark, if you can. I wished it would disappear, once everything was finished. In the meantime, I'll organize proper celebrations."

The elf silently nodded, then headed to his cottage. Briana followed suit, cutting a path among the festive crowd alongside Leliana and Cullen. When they finally arrived in the cottage, she unfastened her tunic - not missing Cullen awkwardly turning to face the wall - and exposed her hip, covered in greenish bruises and a peculiar mix of old and new scabs. Solas snorted.

"When were you going to tell me? You should've brought this to my attention at least a week ago." That felt kind of like the shaman's scoldings. Cullen turned a little towards her.

"I really need to study healing magic more."

"I agree, but please refrain from practising on yourself like you did. It'll leave some nasty scars now." He was cleaning the wound with a rag imbued with some stingy liquid, Briana couldn't help but hiss and squirm.

"If you would just stay still". She diverted her gaze towards Leliana, who was looking at her judgingly. With a sigh, she lowered her eyes, staring at her toes while the elf warmed her skin with his magic. It took a good ten minutes before he stopped.

"Just try not to do that again."

"It's my fault too. I knew of these wounds." Cullen intervened, earning a surly look from Briana. Leliana's poker face was spectacular, as was Solas', who ignored him and went to the door.

"Herald, I believe you're expected for the celebrations. Please, leave the serum on for a few minutes, then feel free to go." With a smile and a head tilt, Leliana went out with him, but Briana could _swear_ she heard a giggle. As the door closed, she snapped her head towards Cullen.

"Good job at making everyone in Haven think we're together."

Cullen blushed, then furrowed his brows. "That I doubt. Ser Barris' behaviour left little to the imagination." Briana answered with a sneer.

"A relationship is made of two people, in case you didn't know."

His shoulders lost tension. "So, you don't..." She ignored his awkward gaze dropping to her still exposed hip. "Does it still hurt?"

"Solas is good at his job, don't worry. Way better than I am, actually, he's patched me up countless times in the Hinterlands. I wonder if I'll turn up meeting him again."

Cullen turned serious. "Do you want to leave?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm currently homeless, aside from the Inquisition. But I can't force it to stay together, it's bound to crumble now that the danger is gone."

Cullen inhaled. "I am homeless, just like you. But I think the Inquisition can still have purpose. There's still the matter between mages and Templars, and..."

Briana stared into his chestnut eyes.

"Don't wanna say goodbye?" She felt deadly serious, her stomach tense, but forced a playful smile. Cullen wore longing on his face.

"No. To anyone."

It was then that they were interrupted by a loud rumble, and bells ringing. Cullen bolted outside, while she hurriedly slipped into her protective robes. Countless torches could be seen in the valley, marching towards Haven. He ran towards the verge of the bank, and shouted, almost suffocated by the general racket.

"Enemy approaching! To arms!"

When she came out of the cabin, he grabbed her arm violently and pushed her towards the stairs. "We have to reach the gates!"

In the yard just behind the gates Cassandra, Josephine and Leliana were already gathered. "Cullen! Herald!"

Leliana promptly intervened. "One of my scouts reported of a great force, the bulk of which over the mountain."

"Under what banner?" Josephine was pensive.

"None."

"None?!"

Their reports were interrupted by a bang on the gate.

"If someone could open this, I'd appreciate it!" The voice bore a strange accent, and sounded fancy even in face of evident distress. Briana resolutedly moved to open the gate, to be greeted with the sight of a tanned mage rising among several armoured corpses, but barely able to stand. Cullen unsheated his sword and ran to her side.

"Ah... I'm here to warn you. Fashionably late, I'm afraid." His legs gave out, and Cullen swiftly helped him stand.

"Mighty exhausted, don't mind me. Ah... there you are. I came to tell you what happened with the mages of Redcliffe. You're not going to like it."

Cullen rolled his eyes, and she was kind of happy he would not let go of his sass even in such times. She took a lyrium potion out of her pocket and handed it to the mage, who thanked her with a tilt of his head.

"They're under control of the Venatori, in service of something called 'The Elder One'". Briana goggled. _The master of the Envy demon!_ The mage pointed towards one of the lights on the mountain.

"That woman is Calpernia. She commands the Venatori, and that... is the Elder One." Just barely visibile, a silhouette of a man too tall to be human. Briana shuddered.

"Cullen, give me a plan. _Any_ plan." She pleaded to the man standing beside her. He had a determined light in his eyes.

"Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster we must control the battle. Get out there" he added, signaling the trebuchets, "and hit that force. Use anything you can."

He turned, and lifted his sword. "Soldiers! Gather the villagers, fortify and watch for advanced forces. Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"


	11. Chapter 10 - The Empty Throne

Everything seemed to have taken a turn for the better when the landslide had hit the bulk of the enemy forces. Cullen had been proud of her intuition regarding the trebuchet, even if he suspected her extensive knowledge of the area might have been crucial in this decision. What he didn't expect was a blasted Archdemon to turn up and destroy one of the trebuchets. It had been terribly similar to the plight he had seen in Ferelden, spitting not fire but rather some kind of acid secretion. Briana had also managed, in the nick of time, to survive and to gather some survivors from the vicinities: Adan had some burn marks, but overall, they were fine. A good portion of Templars and civilians made it to the Chantry and cheered when the Herald stepped in, bolting the heavy doors to the building and greeting the mage, Dorian. She took time for camaraderie even in such situations.

"A brave man. He stood against the Venatori." Dorian pointed to a black-and-blue Chancellor Roderick, then sighed. "Their forces are still too great. If only the trebuchets remained an option..."

Cullen felt singled out, and took a step towards them. _We only have one option._ "They are." Dorian and Briana's heads snapped up. "If we turn the last one on the mountain above us..."

A glance was enough to convey his meaning to her. "To hit the enemy, we bury Haven." Her voice was judgemental, and it pricked him. He knew he was desperate, but if they all were to die, at least they would rid the world of that creature and the Archdemon. _Maker, give me strenght._

"This is not survivable now. The only choice left is how spitefully we end this." he spat out.

"Well, that's not acceptable. I didn't race here only to have you drop rocks on my head!" _Let us hear your magnificent happy plan then, mage._

"Should we submit? Let him _kill us_?" Cullen answered, exasperated.

"Dying is typically a _last_ resort, not first. For a Templar, you think like a blood mage!" Before Cullen could slap him flat, Chancellor Roderick's raspy voice interrupted them.

"There is a path, only those who attended the summer pilgrimage know... The people can... escape. Andraste must have showed me so that I... can tell you." Briana nodded, then looked at him with clear eyes. He could not read what was behind them.

"Thank you, Chancellor. Cullen, will you see to it?" He straightened his back, and understood what she had meant, although refusing to process it, desperately trying to keep it in the back of his mind.

 _That can't be, I won't allow it, we need her, what about my duties? I can't fail her. And also, she can't fail_ me _. Not her._ We _need her_ we _need her._

 _The one who repents, who has faith, u_ _nshaken by the darkness of the world, h_ _e shall know true peace._ That wasn't his voice, but the voice of the Mother of Honnleath, a nostalgia that struck him deep. Why now, after all these years, he could only wonder. But he had to steel himself, as Briana did.

"Of course. But... what of your escape?" He knew that question was superfluous, but he couldn't keep himself from asking. Briana paled without replying, and he felt what little energy he still had waning. His face twisted before he could even try to regain what little composure he had left.

"Herald, if you are meant for this... If the Inquisition is meant for this... I pray for you." Chancellor Roderick seemed to have used his last breath to say this. She nodded without a sound. While the guards helped him across the Chantry, Cullen came to stand in front of her and gripped both her shoulders violently, shaking her up. _I have to convince her. Why should_ she _be the one to do it? No, I know why._

"Briana". She looked up to him, and he wished she hadn't, for the heartwrenching pain she felt almost choked him. His voice softened. "Listen."

She closed her eyes, and managed to force a few words out of her mouth. "I thought you disliked goodbyes." _I am not liking even a second of this._ He pushed his forehead against hers. She was cold as ice, the color of her eyes. His heart squeezed, and he began to tremble and sweat, a sudden headache drilling holes in his temples. _Not now!_ He gnashed his teeth.

"If we are to have a chance... If _you_ are to have a chance... Let that thing hear you." He almost said it to himself. He didn't even feel surprised when Briana's lips brushed his. It was just for a moment, but he felt his head burn. He had imagined it many times - he was disappointed with himself for this - but not even his most creative scenarios included something quite like this. He didn't even have the time to feel happy or thankful for the attraction she felt towards him. She was going to die, and he felt a little like dying, too. He wasn't flustered. He wasn't confident. He was just plain _sad_. No other word came to his mind. She turned away and walked briskly towards the door. He would never see her eyes again. Nothing of what they possibly shared had meaning, or a future. He hastily returned to his duties.

 _My Maker, know my heart:_

 _Take from me a life of sorrow._

 _Lift me from a world of pain._

 _Judge me worthy of Your endless pride._

 _My Creator, judge me whole:_

 _Find me well within Your grace._

 _Touch me with fire that I be cleansed._

 _Tell me I have sung to Your approval._

* * *

"Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the Gods - and it was _empty."_

She had made it; the Elder One himself had come for her atop his dragon. He had tortured her, flinging her around, making her mark flare so intensely that it scorched her hands. The "Anchor", as he called it, was the fruit borne by some kind of artefact that would have permitted him to reach the Golden City of tales and become a God. Even while he choked her, she still managed to smirk scornfully.

"There is no such things as a Golden City, you fool" she spat. What more could she have to lose? She was about to die. _The only chioce left is how spitefully we end this._ She felt dizzy, but was happy to recall Cullen as her last thing on earth. The corrupted magister hurled her against the trebuchet, and she felt a rib snap. _I hope he'll get a move on, I don't wanna die so slowly._

"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling... So be it. I will begin again. I will find a new way to give this world the nation and God it requires."

In the background, she watched as a flaming arrow flared against the black of night. _They've escaped. They're safe._

He made another step towards her. "I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die."

Coughing heavily, she strained her abs but managed to stand up. She only needed one last effort.

"You were a foolish braggart with your mouth full of false gods. But I can help you with something _tangible._ " And, as she was saying so, she kicked the trebuchet's crank, unleashing its projectile on the mount that towered over the Chantry.


	12. Chapter 11 - Good Prospects

Her eyes had already been half open for a while before she woke up, hobbling in what looked like a dungeon. It took her another half an hour to figure out they probably were the ruins of the ancient Temple of Sacred Ashes, that lied buried beneath the Chantry. She stubbornly kept going, her breath puffing for the cold, a sensation that worsened the more she ventured through the ruins. It was only after several long corridors that she figured the reason behind that abnormal temperature. Icicles heaved from her clothes and her body began freezing completely as two despair demons attacked her. She tried to light them on fire, but nothing came out. She was way too exhausted.

 _I managed to survive all that, only to die here?_

She looked at her palm. The Anchor was shining and throbbing, reflected on her scorched skin. _If I could just..._ She tried to concentrate on what the Elder One did to her, when the mark exploded in her hand with a loud bang and blinding lights. When she recovered from the pain, she was surprised to see the ectoplasm remains of the two demons. She flexed her hand impulsively. She was unsure wheter or not she could do it again, but at least she could decree that it didn't need mana to activate.

After a while, a draft grazed her cheeks, and she gained new momentum to go on. After a sudden turn left, she saw it. The dungeon walls had collapsed, and in front of her descended familiar, snow covered hills. It was dark, but she was barely able to distinguish a series of dark shapes further along the valley. _What if they're here? I need help. As soon as possible._ Her hand moved to her pained rib, silently hoping it didn't damage any internal organs in the crash.

White. All white. Her breath panting was the only rhythm she could follow. _A step. Another step. Another one._ Those dark silhouettes had only been trees, but under those, she'd seen remains from recent fires and a small encampment. She kept going. She knew that if she stopped, she'd freeze to death; she didn't even have the energy to build a fire. So she went on.

It had been hours. She knew she was about to reach them, the footsteps engraved in snow were increasing, but she felt like passing out more with each step. She didn't feel pain or muscle ache anymore. She strode with little focus, her head all pins and needles and her senses hurting - sight turning grey and ears ringing. When her knees gave out, she could do little but acknowledge it. She could see so little now, she decided to just close her eyes.

* * *

When one of Leliana's scouts posted around their encampment reported he had found the Herald, Cullen's first thought had been to her corpse. He had decided in that second, that her grave would be grand, a monument to remember her by, something he could grieve on. When the upset soldier added as a _marginal note_ that she was still alive, he nearly had a stroke. Brows firmly knitted together (he'd get sore face muscles, later), he gathered a few men and pushed rudely to where she had been located. They immediately started setting up the stretcher, and he leaned in to look at her. Her nose was covered in blisters, but he was reassured by her even breathing. She was just uncounscious, but very much alive. Once they arrived to camp, Solas started giving out orders. Cullen just stood there amidst the industrious lot, until the elf gave him a surly look.

"And you! Fetch some honeyed tea." He felt strangely compelled, and hastened to the provisions cart. When he came back to the tent where Briana was in, Leliana was examining her hand and Solas was supervising soldiers carefully while they lowered her, only covered in her smalls and breastband, in a wooden tub held together with magic. She was blabbering some nonsense, her eyes starting to open. When she touched the water, she started to scream, and Cullen felt a chill.

"It burns! Leave me! It _burns!_ " Cullen ran to the tub, but Solas stopped him, blocking the way with his arm while Briana spasmed, splashing water. The Commander reserved him his best glare, but the elf didn't concede.

"Put your hand in the water." he said calmly. Cullen obliged: it was lukewarm at best. Briana had caught his arm, squeezing desperately, then let him go, falling back into the water.

"She was lucky your men found her when they did. She risked her limbs, or worse."

"Will the frostbite leave scars on her face?" Cullen sounded sad even to his ears. _What is wrong with me? It's already a miracle she survived._ He was certain he'd win Solas' and Leliana's best scornful look, but instead he found something of a sardonic smile.

"It won't, but it'll take a while to heal." answered the elf.

Leliana spoke in a merry tone. "She's going to be so sad, now that her face's disfigured. And her body! She barely had any blemishes before we captured her, aside from that adorable beauty mark on her back." Cullen goggled and blushed.

"Lady Nightingale, if this was said _on purpose_ -" but he was interrupted by her silvering laugh.

"Oh Commander, I would never."

"Commander, if you would leave us. We need to dress her." Solas cut through her giggling, and he went outside, the cold air feeling like a slap on his face.

* * *

When Briana woke up, she was tucked in a bedroll, Mother Giselle right at her side. She felt voices arguing, and weakly turned towards the entrance of the tent. Seeing that, Mother Giselle caressed her arm, then stood up and approached the rowing lot.

"If you would, the Herald has woken up." Briana squeezed away the blur from her eyes while they fretted around her bed. She felt something squeeze her shoulder, and turned supine. Cullen was examining her in long glances, and she struggled to focus anything else. She had longed to see him, she realized in that moment, but the haze she still felt prevented her from reaching concrete feelings, and her eyes closed before she could even process it.

When she woke up for the second time, only Solas remained near her.

"Solas." His head immediately snapped to hers.

"It's good that you've woken up, da'len. We were eagerly waiting for you." She sat up, straightening her back. A flow of memories hit her, and left her confused for a moment.

"How did you find me?"

"Leliana's scouts located you a little higher than here."

"Where are we going to go to, now? Haven is no more. How many of us are left?"

Solas smiled. "The main share of soldiers and templars survived. The civilians suffered more casualties, I'm afraid." Briana's brows knitted in ache. "But I have thought of the perfect place for a force such as the Inquisition. Tarasyl'an Te'las: it was an ancient elven sacred ground, until your kind conquered and fortified it."

Briana's eyes lightened up. "Skyhold." Solas nodded.

"There'll be some refurbishing to do."

* * *

 **Hi! author here. I'm very sorry about the late update! I had a hellish week. I expect the updates to resume their pace from now on. Thanks and enjoy!**


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